All My Dead Babies in Heaven Love Me
By: A Woman Pumped Full of Fertility Drugs

Oh, hi there.  Glad you could stop by.  It’s been such a roller coaster ride around here on account of all the babies coming and going, so it’s real nice to have somebody to talk to.  You don’t mind if I stay seated here on the bed, do you?  With all these fertility hormones coursing through my veins, standing upright tends to make me vomit and tip over.  The last time I tried I fell through my old jewelry armoire, broke my vanity mirror and took ten stitches.  It was awful.  I mean, an accident like that could wipe out three or four embryos at once.  So yeah, from now until I get pregnant again, I’m just sort of stuck here on the bed watching television and waiting for Steve to come home from work to have sex with me and give me food. Which is another reason I’m glad you’re here to keep me company - well, that is until Steve gets here on his lunch break in another half an hour.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking, so you don’t have to say it.  Why am I putting myself through such misery?  You probably figure that between being reduced to the state of a bedridden seed planter, the miscarriages of the quintuplets, sextuplets, triplets, and conjoined twins, and the crib death of the two sets of twins that I actually carried to term, that I’d be ready to throw in the towel and accept the notion that some people are just not meant to have kids.  But you don’t understand.  It’s not that I merely want a baby; I NEED to have a baby.  And besides, I just know that all those babies I’ve had and lost are all happy in heaven right now with their hearts full of love for their mommy who got them there.  And that includes the Siamese sisters whose bodies I keep in that jar on the mantle.  

I don’t know how to explain it, but my body and soul are telling me that I should have a child of my own.  Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I know how great a mom I would be.  I mean, considering how much I learned from the shortcomings of my own crummy, uncaring parents and those religious studies courses I took in college before dropping out to take that job at the bank where I met Steve, I firmly believe I’d have a lot to offer a creation of my own flesh and blood.

Oh God, why not me?!

Sorry about that.  What’s that you say?  Why not adopt a child?  Oh, you.  See, I knew you just don't understand. It’s not that I don’t sympathize with these children who’ve already been born and are in desperate need of parents, but why should I willingly adopt the burden of somebody else’s mistakes when it would be so much more gratifying to make my own?  Err, well – you know what I mean.  Besides, having your own children helps repopulate the planet.  If everyone just stopped having their own children and started adopting them, pretty soon there’d be nobody left to adopt because all the people would be gone.

Oops, that would be Steve pulling up in the driveway.  He always honks like that when he comes home.  So I guess I’ll see you later, then.  Bye, and don’t forget to pray for us to get pregnant!